


Give

by drvology



Category: Batman (Unspecified canon), Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-10
Updated: 2011-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-17 20:17:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drvology/pseuds/drvology
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce & Dick challenge each other to a game of endurance. Both win by giving in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give

**Author's Note:**

> B:TAS is my favorite Batverse incarnation; it's become my default setting when imagining the characters &c. That established, I think the fic I write can be aptly labeled 'canon & time nonspecific.'  
> → Written in an hour for 60_minute_fics challenge group @ LJ || 092206 Prompt #1 _The Games People Play -- Just make sure there's a game of some sort going on, or at least mentioned, somewhere in your fic. The rest is up to you._

Breathing was always important during times of stress. Deep, steadying, centering breaths. In and out, over and over, concentrating on the rhythm and the flow, the expansion and the contraction. Breathing was an amazing thing--it relieved the sharp agony of pain, dulled a drumming nervous pulse, slowed the frenzied whispers of an overloaded mind's endless persistence.

He needed all that and more, at the moment.

Pain- his cock so hard it hurt, sharp and beautiful, unattended need.

Pulse- a thrum that danced heated up to every pore, steady and thick, visible at the stretch skin over the cup of his collarbone.

Persistent- the voice in his head telling him no, no, not yet, don't give, the voice that argued now, has to be now, take it make it _right_ now.

Instead he breathed--yes that whole breathing thing, in with the nose, out with the mouth, fill all the way down and let the diaphragm spread--and kept his eyes focused on nothing specific and waited.

Waited.

Waited.

He tried not to reveal the tension that threaded his entire frame like shots of steel. He thought about his toes, bunched in the carpet, made them release. He thought about his fists, clenched in trembling fists, made them open. He thought about his jaw, pressed tight together, made it part.

When he looked down he almost groaned--almost listed forward--almost lost.

Bruce was knelt between his wide-spread legs, hands hovering above his thighs. Dick could feel the warmth of those palms mere inches from his skin and it made him tingle, all over. Bruce's eyes were dark, dark blue, glittered with need and desire. Dick could hear the thoughts running through Bruce's mind, what it'd feel like for them to touch. Bruce's lips glistened with saliva, tongue-bathed slow after he'd looked. Dick could taste every bit of that mouth, every wet secret.

He sucked in air, filled his lungs and held it until they ached, let it out again so slow he counted to twenty.

Dick didn't lift his legs to push into Bruce's hands. He didn't ask to hear the spill of dirty thoughts on vibrating husky words. He didn't lean down and catch Bruce's tongue to slide and coil with his.

Instead he drooped his eyelids, sweep of lash-bruise on his cheeks, bare slit of blue color for Bruce to gaze up into. He let his shoulders drop, relaxed release, and his wrists bent against the mattress as his fingers splayed lazy. His lips split apart, moist-sweet sound, then he let his top teeth sink into the pillow of his lower lip.

Bruce breathed, now, surge unsteady, ragged with sound.

Dick managed--barely--to suppress a smirk.

They stared at each other. Waited. Bruce _inadvertently_ brushed Dick's calf with his flank. Dick _accidentally_ flexed his toes along the strained arch of Bruce's foot. Bruce _happened to_ exhale hard enough for Dick to feel the hot ribbon-traces of breath on his stomach.

Waited.

Waited.

Dick knew Bruce's knees hurt, were likely screaming to move and stretch. His control was so meticulously contained that the second it snapped Dick felt he'd shatter in all directions. They were both past on edge, too far gone, pushing one another further.

This was torture, but damn if Dick was going to break. Not like last time, or the time before, or the time before. Not like Bruce smiled knowingly over and assumed he would. This torture was all the greater as already they'd had it fast and rough in the Cave after the night's hunt--had it again in this bed thorough and unhurried--tempted and tickled and challenged each other to _this_ somewhere in the soft-haze of double afterglow.

So he breathed. The flavor of Bruce and musk and _want of_ sex rich on his tongue. The scent of Bruce and precome dizzy-burn in his nose. The heat and nerve-ending buzz of Bruce and their hunger and this _almost_ permeating his senses. So he breathed.

He breathed so long, so deep, that a yawn took hold of him, made his head tilt, made his mouth stretch and shape into a perfect-pout _oh_. It shuddered his muscles, gasped in then eased out with a lilt of moan-sigh, made his eyes sleepy and brimmed-over shine with tears.

Suddenly Bruce's mouth crushed over his- Bruce's hands fierce skim up his thighs, up his ribs, one tangled in his hair the other nails deep at the curve of his shoulder blade- Bruce's body surged lifting his, angled them together, angled them back onto the bed.

Suddenly Dick couldn't tell the ceiling from the floor- Bruce's tongue swept along his, drew it out to lick and tip-touch and taste--Bruce's cock twitched and aligned and hot-wet to his--Bruce's heat a blanketing force, seductive, all down over him.

Suddenly he and Bruce were thrusting, past crazy want and need and their hips answered, fury sweat-slicked musclebunch. Bruce's mouth wider and Dick's open beneath. Bruce's fingers at the knob of his nape at the dent of his thigh and Dick's aimless finger patterns everywhere. Bruce's come and Dick's come, hot hard fast, almost as one, grunts and groans and the garble of their names.

They stilled, remained, savored the last seconds and the skittering cascade of come-comedown sensations. Then they rolled, slow, settled Dick mostly under Bruce, lips dusting and teasing while they kissed and murmured. They lay, minds numb bodies sated slumped snuggle, arms bound limp but firm. Their fit was perfect, and eventually Dick managed to mumble he'd won and Bruce managed to laugh.

There was nothing better than this study in contrasts--each other-the _before_ tense waiting, the _now_ orgasm bliss. The various ways their love manifested, fast sharp patient impatient wait and wait and _give_ and ever always together.

Dick closed his eyes, nuzzled in nestled close, smile-hummed at the feel of Bruce's hands, one soft in his hair, the other tender-caress glides that followed down his spine, traced the crease to the curve of his ass, then back up his spine. Dick let his hands rest motionless, one over the beat of Bruce's heart, one loose behind Bruce's ear.

They managed more kisses. They were long languid fucked-out stretched-out oblivion, almost asleep, wonderful warm contentment. They breathed.


End file.
